The 100th Games
by Isabella Katniss
Summary: Sorry guys, FF took it down because it was SYOT. : But here it is again. YAAAAAAAAAY! Thanks to all who submitted, but SYOT is closed now. KTHNXBAI! Oh yeah. It has been 25 years since the rebels were defeated. Now there is a new quell. Who will emerge victorious? R and R.
1. District 2 reaping

District 2 Reaping

**Hello fans! For some crazy reason, fan fiction took down the story I had before. But I already have almost all the tributes I need, so I'll just go ahead with the story. Thanks to and Devin6299 for these tributes. **

**Syliana's POV**

Running to my spot in the lines of girls that stood by the front, I listened as our escort pulled the boy's name.

"Arthur Careem!" she calls with that plastered-on grin nobody has ever seen her without. Not surprisingly, as the little 8-year-old walks up to the stand, an older boy raises his hand. Trina, our escort, gives a nod and he steps onto the stage.

"What is your name?" She asks. "And how old are you?"

"Drex Drayden, age 12" He says proudly.

"Well, let's give a BIG hand for Drex up here!" The audience claps, some vigorously, some more halfhearted. And then Trina reaches into the giant glass ball that I know my name is in. She pulls the slip. Holding it close to her face, she reads.

"Syliana Wellwood!" And as I walk up to the stage, I notice something. Nobody is clapping. Is this a good sign? Or a bad one? I don't know. But I don't have time to ponder it, because we are hurried into the justice building by white-suited peacekeepers and there is much more on my mind.

First, we are visited by family and friends. Having none of the latter and very little of the former, I just wait there silently, watching as Drex is visited by a girl, several boys, and a woman holding two tiny babies. Finally my little brother shows up, with my mother in tow. She smiles sadly as Jordan hugs me, neither of them saying a word. I hug him back, my arms around him until the peacekeepers come back to take me to the train.

Once we have boarded the train, we meet our mentors. One, a tall woman named Enobaria, seems nice enough. The other, a thick, burly man of at least 50, Cristin, seems like he can't wait to see the gore on TV. We already know our escort Trina, but she acts like we don't.

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm Trina." She holds out her hand. Drex takes it tentatively.

"Wow, really? I wasn't aware" I mutter under my breath. She turns to me, still holding out her hand, and suddenly I am VERY interested in the roasted turkey on the table. Mumbling something about "Well, ex-CUSE me for having more manners then a dog," she stalks off. Enobaria grins at me.

"You know, I'v always wanted to do that. She annoys the hell out of me" Still smiling warmly, she helps herself to a serving of the roasted turkey.

_Well, at least SOMEONE understands me here _I think to myself. Feeling a lot better about the next few weeks, I eat a little more and then go to bed. As I drift off, I can think of only one thing. Winning.


	2. District 5 reaping

District 5 reaping.

Angie Rimkus's point of view

As I stood there, with so many girls, I was nervous. Most of the girls here shouldn't have been entered yet. And yet so many of these little girls, as young as 7, were already entered more then once. I myself shouldn't have been entered until next year. But I was, to support my parents, and my brother who was too sick to work in the power factory. I heard our escort Bethie snag a paper and read it.

"Boro Specht" She calls out, and to mild, uninterested applause a 13-year-old walks on stage.

She reaches for the girls' orb, and suddenly the applause dies down. As she lifts the paper, I hear the whole group of girls draw breath.

"Angie Rimkus" She calls, and the crowd claps the same way they did for Boro.

Inside there are so many emotions that I cannot count them, but on the outside I do my best to appear cool, calm and collected.

I slowly make my way up to the stage, step by step.

After a little more agonizing stage time, we are led by the peacekeepers into the Justice Building to see our family and friends one last time.

My mom walks in, a weak smile on her face. My dad and brother, Austin, are home sick, like always. She holds my hand, and when the peacekeepers come I do not want to leave. I remember the last thing Austin said to me. "I hate you" He had screamed, and then run off. I had not seen him since. I wished he was here. I wished I had more of a last memory of him then those sting words, "I hate you" But no such luck. As I leave for the train, I almost think I see him waving from my house off the square.


	3. District 8 reaping

District 8 reaping, POV Grant Buscus

Reaping day. The one day a year when everyone in the district is up for certain death, not just the poor families. Standing in a line with the other 12-year-old boys, some of whom were already entered 7 or 8 times. Our escort, Elsia, grinned at us over the giant glass orbs. She reached a hand into the boys' orb, and pulled the slip.

"Grant Buscus" She yells over the din of the crowd. Me. I make my way slowly through the crowd, up the stairs, and on stage. Elsia, still smiling, asks the audience for applause. A few people clap, but most don't even notice Elsia up on the stage. I smile towards the camera. Then Elsia reaches for the ball of girl names. She pulls one out and reads it, still smiling like somebody clamped her mouth open.

"Alice Walker" A tall girl with a slight build and blonde hair detaches 2 other girls from her and walks up the stage. She looks strong. I know I don't. Then we walk into the Justice Building, finally free of the cameras and acting. My best friend walks in, wishes me luck, and leaves. No one else is coming, I know. I watch as Alice is visited by the two girls who hugged her when her name was called, then a woman with the same blonde hair who must be her mother, holding the hand of a little girl who can't be more then 5. Then the peacekeepers come to take us to the train.

We walk in silence, me 4 or 5 steps behind her, and Elsia several steps in front. Our mentor, Thomas, walks next to her. When we reach the train, the first thing I notice is the food. A table has been laid out for us, with an entire roast pig floating in red sauce, and goblets of transparent blue juice. I don't think I have ever seen this much food. As we all sit down, the train begins to move. Unaccustomed to this jerky movement, I fall off my chair, spilling my blue juice.

"What, never been on a train before?" Thomas grins. I glare at him, and get back into my chair. Before long, it is dark outside and I can tell it is almost 10. Finished eating, I decide to go to my car. Without asking to be excused, I stand up and head for the door, feeling Elsia looking daggers at me. Ignoring her, I leave the room, already tired of her and her good manners. It's going to be a long 3 weeks.


	4. District 12 reaping

**Hey yalls, I've had this written for a while now, but here u go! **

Matilda Grace's POV (Note: This character is 7, so this chapter will be less intense-wait, not intense. Less, umm, stuff.)

I hug my kitten one last time, knowing I may never see her again. Then I step into the open sunlight. In my lavender dress with lacy cuffs, I look a bit like a bird. I run to the reaping, getting there just in time. I stand there between Eleanor Green and Sophia Graham. Sennie, our escort, reaches her hand into an orb filled with tiny slips of paper. She pulls the name, calls it out, and a boy, Stanley Stavovy, steps onstage. She reaches for the girl's ball, and I hold my breath.

"Matilda Grace!" I can't help myself. I start to cry.

"Now now, don't be sad! You're going to be famous!" Sennie smiles at me. Still sobbing, I walk up 5 steps to the stage. Sennie tries to hug me, but I step away. Soon we are done onstage and we walk into the justice building.

My mom comes in, holding my little brother Sean. She presses something cold into my palm. I look at it, and I see the locket she got from her mother when she was 10. Inside is a picture of my whole family. I smile at my mom, tears still in my eyes. I notice she is crying too, and I lean forward to hug her. Then a tiny black furry head pokes its head out of my mom's purse. My kitten! I give it one last hug, and leave for the train.

**Hey, remember (those of you who read Survival the Fittest) how I told you to blame Stosh if the chapters sucked? Well, Stanley is his real name, and Stanley Stavovy is a character he made up. Just a tiny factoid. **


End file.
